


The Perils of Pranking

by JenJo



Category: Marvel
Genre: Domestic Avengers, F/M, Prank Wars, married clintasha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-25 19:29:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17127371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JenJo/pseuds/JenJo
Summary: No one is entirely sure who started the pranking war.But one thing was for sure- neither side were going to back down any time soon.





	The Perils of Pranking

**Author's Note:**

  * For [panicsdownpour](https://archiveofourown.org/users/panicsdownpour/gifts).



> For drivingdeanwinchester- I'm sorry, I couldn't find your AO3 username.   
> (30/12) EDIT: Found you :D
> 
> It's been too long since I wrote some Clint/Natasha, so thank you for giving me an opportunity to do so.  
> And Steve as the target for their pranking was just too perfect to ignore.
> 
> Natasha, Clint, and Steve in a pranking war that no one is sure on the origins, but no one is backing down.  
> Enjoy!

“Clinton Francis Barton, what have you done this time?”

Clint frowned, putting his hands on his hips and staring down at Natasha, who had not even looked up from her book. “Nothing?” He hedged.

Natasha shook her head. “If you are going to prank someone, you don’t use your credit card to do it; you use  _ theirs _ .”

Clint relaxed slightly. “Did you-”   
“Set up a weekly subscription to  _ Cat Memes _ , ensuring that once a week, Steve receives an email of the finest cat memes, an email that  _ has  _ to be viewed, in its entirety, before it can be deleted?” Natasha put her book down, smiling at Clint as she patted the couch next to her. “Of course I did.”

“I would have happily paid for it,” Clint said as he sat down next to Natasha on the couch. Natasha lay down, resting her head on Clint’s legs. 

“I know,” she replied. “But this is revenge for those soda machines.”

“The soda machines,” Clint shuddered with the memory. “I’m pretty sure the stains are still on my walls, you know.”

“Maybe we should get him to pay for professional cleaning?”

Clint shook his head. “Already tried a professional; apparently nothing gets out expired cherry surprise out of drywall. Who knew?”

“Steve knew,” Natasha looked at Clint knowingly. “Steve always knows.”

“That man can be so frustrating. Remind me why we got into a prank war with him?”

“ _ We  _ did no such thing,” Natasha said with a raised eyebrow. “ _ You  _ were the one who swapped out his coffee for a slightly different brand. To which he retaliated by switching out  _ your  _ favourite ice cream.  _ I  _ only got involved because we’re ride or die.”

“That is a very odd way of saying that we are married.”

“We were ride or die long before we were married,” Natasha replied, shrugging a shoulder. “And it encompasses a whole lot more than simply saying married.”

Clint laughed a little at that. “There was nothing simple about our wedding, Nat.”

“For you, perhaps. For me, it was incredibly simple.”

Clint looked up at the roof, recalling the day. “My car exploded before I could get into it. The tracksuits chose that day to try to kidnap me.  _ Again _ . So I had to defeat them.  _ Again _ . My phone died, I had no money on me, I had to walk to the place.”

“And everyone had assumed that you had cold feet, and had abandoned me.” Natasha shook her head. “Idiots, honestly. I knew that you would be there, no matter what.”

“Five hours late to my own wedding.”

“It made me being one hour late look good by comparison.” When Clint looked down at her questioningly, Natasha waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, had to stop a drug trafficking ring on my way.”

“In your wedding dress?”

“Clint, please,” Natasha gave Clint a look that said just how ridiculous she found the statement. “I was obviously wearing a tactical suit underneath.”

“Obviously,” Clint shook his head with a smile. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of that for myself.”

“Because you still believe in good people who won’t ruin your wedding day,” Natasha answered easily, as though this was something she said every day. 

“Really?” Clint asked disbelievingly.

Natasha considered this, before shaking her head. “No, you’re right. You just didn’t think to be prepared in the case that your suit got ruined. Which is an alarmingly normal state for your clothes to be in, now that I think about it.”

“Rude,” Clint muttered, running a hand through Natasha’s hair. “So rude. Why do I listen to you again?”

“Ride or die,” Natasha answered, closing her eyes in contentment.

“Ride or die,” Clint echoed, shaking his head slightly as he continued to run his hand through Natasha’s hair.

 

~~~

 

The first delivery of the prank came at the most opportune time. 

For Clint, anyway.

It turned out that what Steve was doing when he was on his phone during a briefing was not looking up intel, as Clint had always assumed would be the case.

No, apparently Steve checked his emails during briefing.

And, judging by the completely unexpected sound coming from him, he had just opened the first of his cat emails.

A sound that was very unusual, and had everyone looking at Steve with varying levels of confusion and surprise.

“Uh, spam email?” Steve offered, putting his phone away. “Please, don’t let me interrupt the briefing.”

 

~~~

 

“This has your name written all over it.”

Natasha turned away from the fridge, and raised an eyebrow at Steve. “And what name would be written over what?”

Steve reached into his pocket, and pulled out his phone. He tapped on it a bit, before handing it to Natasha.

She took the phone, and looked at the cat email. She handed the phone back to Steve with a raised eyebrow. 

“A spam email hardly has  _ my  _ name on it.”

Steve took back his phone, putting it in his pocket and giving Natasha an assessing glance. “You aren’t very subtle, Mrs Romanov.”

“Wasn’t trying to be,” Natasha replied easily.

“Watch your back,” Steve said as he walked away, before adding, “or don’t. Might make my plans more fun.”

Natasha smiled sweetly in response, not overly worried about any plans that Steve may or may not have.

 

~~~

 

“Steve swapped out all of my shampoo for green food dye,” Clint complained as he dropped down onto the bed, on his back, staring up at the ceiling.

“You use the same shampoo that I do,” Natasha noted, sitting up in bed and looking down at Clint.

“And yet, he only switched out  _ my  _ bottles,” Clint sighed, shaking his head. “How did he even know it was me?”

“Is this a real question?”

Clint considered this for a moment, before sighing again. “No, not a real question.”

“Retaliation?”

“Already in place.”

 

~~~

 

“Mr Romanov.”

“Mr Rogers.”

Steve sat down opposite Clint, who was eating a bowl of cereal.

At four pm.

“How may I help you?” Clint asked before taking another mouthful.

Steve sighed, shaking his head. “Red food dye in my soap? How did you manage that?”

“No idea what you’re talking about.”

Steve sighed again. “Clint…”

“Steve…” Clint echoed Steve’s tone, without looking up from his cereal.

“I…” Steve rubbed his forehead. “It won’t come out of the tiles.”

“That sounds unfortunate,” Clint conceded, looking up from his cereal. A small smile graced his lips. “I happen to be dealing with some stubborn stains myself. Truly unfortunate.”

Steve looked at Clint dryly. “Touche. Is there any way to stop this from continuing?”

Clint shrugged, returning to his cereal. “Not my call, is it?”

“I suppose not,” Steve sighed, standing up and walking away from the table.

Clint finished his cereal with a smile on his face.

 

~~~

  
  


Natasha walked through the mansion with her hair bright purple.

No one saw this as something requiring comment.

“Not a single comment?” Steve asked her later that day, during their weekly sparring session.

“Steve, my husband has made purple his  _ thing  _ for far too many years. My hair being purple is hardly a cause for concern,” Natasha answered sweetly, easily dodging a punch from Steve.

“It’s hardly Clint’s shade of purple,” Steve pointed out as he kicked at Natasha. “This is more… vibrant. Shocking.”

“You clearly don’t remember the seventies.”

“I was  _ frozen  _ in the seventies.” Steve rolled out of the way of Natasha’’s hands, before frowning. “And you weren’t even born, let alone Clint being born.”

“You would think so,” Natasha said as she pinned Steve to the floor. 

“I don’t want to know,” Steve sighed when Natasha released him. 

Natasha shook her head. “You really don’t.”

 

~~~

 

“I miss the purple hair,” Natasha sighed. “It was  _ vibrant _ .”

Clint, who was brushing her hair, shook his head. “It was not, and you know it. It was a ridiculous shade.”

“It made my eyes pop.”

“I cannot believe that this is an actual conversation that is happening.’ Clint paused, his hands going still.

“Clint?” Natasha asked.

“What if  _ this  _ is the prank?” Clint whispered. “To get you to say ridiculous things like  _ make my eyes pop _ , and to have me question the colour?”

Natasha turned around to pat Clint’s cheek. “Clint, darling, the  _ colour  _ was the prank. Anything else was an unintended side effect.”

“I don’t know Nat,” Clint said as he resumed brushing Natasha’s hair. “Steve is pretty smart.”

“I’m smarter.”

“Without a doubt.”

 

~~~

 

“All of my bookshelves are out of order,” Steve said to the two occupants of the kitchen.

Clint, who was sitting on the countertop with a pot of coffee in hand, shrugged his shoulders. “Who reads books?”

“You do,” Natasha said under her breath, before turning to face Steve, turning the toaster on before doing so. “Bookshelves?”

“My  _ electronic  _ bookshelves,” Steve clarified. “Someone has rearranged them all. And whenever I try to fix them, they put themselves into a  _ new  _ order.”

“Sounds troublesome,” Clint offered. “Sorry, man.”

“You have nothing to do with this, I take it?”

“Not a thing,” Clint answered.

“And your wife?” Steve asked, turning to face Natasha.

She shrugged as she made herself toast. “Not a clue.”

Steve shook his head, but left the kitchen.

“The rearranging was a nice touch,” Natasha said once he was out of earshot.

“When I saw that you had already changed them once, I thought it would be an added layer of trouble.”

“Teamwork,” Natasha clinked her cup against Clint’s pot.

“Makes the dream work.”

 

~~~

 

Clint felt the vibrations of someone walking into the lounge area, where he was laying on the floor. 

Eyes closed, he lifted up a hand. “No ears. So don’t expect an answer.”

He felt the footsteps stop somewhere near his feet, and one foot began tapping. 

He opened his eyes, and looked up to ind Steve wearing a black shirt.

“What’s wrong?” Clint asked.

Steve pointed at the shirt, then made the sign for blue.

“Now that you mention it,” Clint said as he sat up. “I do remember that shirt being blue. Black does suit you though.”

Steve rolled his eyes, and walked away.

Clint lay back down with a smile on his face.

 

~~~

 

“Nat, why is my wardrobe full of sticky notes?”

“The same reason the bathroom is, I imagine.”

Clint groaned. “They’re never coming out of the bathroom.”

Natasha nodded sadly. “They’re also in the drawers. And everywhere, really, except our bed.”

“How did he even get in here?”

Natasha pointed at the window.

Clint looked over at it, then shook his head sadly. “This is ridiculous.”

“What do you suggest?” Natasha asked.

Clint hummed in thought. “Parley?”

 

~~~

 

Steve came to the room to find Natasha and Clint sitting on one side of the table, with an empty chair across from them.

Clint held out a hand to gesture at the chair, and Steve sat down.

Natasha was looking at Steve with an unimpressed look, which Clint easily matched.

After a few minutes of silence, Clint uttered two words.

“Sticky notes.”

“ _ Sticky note _ s were the final straw?” Steve asked, a little incredulously. “Not the hair dye, not the shifting of furniture-”

“I  _ told  _ you the place was wrong,” Natasha signed at Clint, who waved her off.

“- not the soda machines?” Steve finished.

Clint shook his head. “Think of it as a build up of everything, and a lowering of tolerance. The sticky notes were simply the final straw.”

“And do you have a proposal?” Steve asked.

Natasha answered, “We do. An immediate cessation of hostilities between all parties at this table, and an agreement to focus our combined efforts on other parties.”

“Other parties?” Steve asked, curious.

Clint smiled wide. “Other parties.”

“Any particular ones in mind?”

Natasha and Clint shared a look, before Clint answered. “We’re open to suggestions.”

Steve leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest and looking at Natasha and Clint with a mischievous look in his eyes. 

“This could end up being a  _ very  _ long list.”

“Oh, we know,” Natasha responded with an equally mischievous look in her eyes. “But between the three of us-”

“- we can achieve triple the results,” Clint finished, joining in on the brewing chaos.

The three of them lost track of time as they began plotting a series of pranks to befall their friends and colleagues.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading :D


End file.
